


Quell

by Huggle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Dean, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Camp Chitaqua, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Castiel and Drug Use, Dark Dean Winchester, Dean Has Issues, Drug Addict Castiel, Drug-Induced Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huggle/pseuds/Huggle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all have their ways of coping.  </p><p>This is Dean's, and Castiel owes him nothing less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quell

Dean sat for a moment in the pick-up, fingers clenched tight around the steering wheel. It was always a mistake to go to Cas like this, when he was so angry his head hurt and he wanted to have somebody else he could force to share that pain.

But Cas never objected, never turned him away. He knew better, of course, like Dean would ever let that particular door get slammed in his face. Still, Cas sometimes managed to calm him, to bring him under control. It was that or he’d need to go back out and try to kill as many of those Croats as he could to make up for the people they’d lost today, to make up for this crappy camp, the fucked up situation.

To make up for Sam.

There weren’t enough Croats left in the entire world.

He threw the keys to Baxter as he came up to take the truck, and then followed the trail to the outskirts of the camp. 

Why the fuck Cas had to pick the cabin furthest out he didn’t know. Wasn’t like anybody didn’t know he entertained half the camp in here, and nobody especially cared. The Apocalypse pretty much wiped out social prejudice – when the majority of the population had turned rabid and was clawing at the gate, everybody lost interest in who was sticking what in who and how often. Or what drugs Cas had managed to swallow this time to _enhance_ the experience.

Dean wondered if he’d find anybody in there with the former angel, and who he’d have to kick out this time.

He shoved the door open, kicked it shut behind him, and went through to the living room first. 

Cas was sitting cross legged in the middle of the room, eyes shut, hands resting in his lap. A blanket was drawn across his shoulders.

“Dean,” he said, quietly.

Dean nudged him with his knee as he passed. “Leaving a voicemail?”

It was a wasted barb, and he knew it; Cas had long since stopped rising to his jabs about Heaven.

“I take it things didn’t go well.”

Dean turned to see Cas on his feet. He folded the blanket and put it down on a chair.

“No, things didn’t go well. We got pinned down. Lost eight people. And the other truck. And we’ve got nothing to show for it.”

Cas was in front of him, suddenly, his touch gentle but firm as he caught Dean’s chin and tilted it to see the scrape on his neck.

“Did you get this cleaned out?”

“It wasn’t a Croat. I fell on some gravel, somebody stood on me in the panic so I got grazed.”

“How about we don’t take any chances?”

Cas headed for his bedroom and Dean followed. He stayed quiet as Cas sat him down on the bed, opened a first aid kit and used some antiseptic wipes to treat the abraded skin. 

“Anywhere else?”

Dean met his eyes. “Feels like everywhere.”

Cas smiled at him. “Everywhere.”

“Not coming on to you, Cas.”

“Of course not. The medical centre’s the first building you passed. And yet you’re here.”

Neither of them said anything else as Cas carefully eased him out of jacket and shirt. He grabbed the edge of Dean’s t-shirt, encouraging him to lift his arms so he could take it off.

That hurt, and he didn’t mind letting it show. Cas found the start of a bruise running along his ribs, and Dean didn’t know exactly how he’d got it – their latest run felt like one big disaster from the minute they’d rolled out of the camp, so it could have been any time after the gates shut behind them.

He let Cas guide him to his feet again, stood there as his belt was undone and laid aside, as he was encouraged to kick off his boots before Cas tugged his jeans down and off.

Cas eased him back down onto the bed, got him to lie flat, and stood back to look down at him.

“You look like someone ran you over. Twice.”

Not what Cas usually had to say to him when they were in the bedroom. Or anywhere with less than the appropriate amount of clothing. “Please, stop, you’ll get me hard.”

Cas chuckled. “We both know that’s why you came here, Dean. If you want me to play doctor with you, you know I don’t mind.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s wrist, tugged him forward until he had to kneel on the bed or fall on it. He got Cas astride him, and by then he was hard and he wanted Cas to know it.

“Not in the mood for games.” He hated it sometimes, that Cas could be so light when there was nothing but blood and death around them. He wanted to go grab his stash and bury it somewhere, watch Cas come out of it cold and have everything hit him like a landslide. Wanted to see Cas shake and plead when his bubble was burst, and have a taste of what Dean was going through every single damn day with no armour plating, no drug induced haze to help him cope.

Cas was staring at him, and Dean could see the acceptance in his eyes. Wordless surrender. 

Dean tipped them, got Cas flat underneath him, and shoved hard against him, just once, just so Cas knew what he was in for.

Then he got up and tugged the heavy blackout curtains across the window. Some of those other sick fucks in camp liked to watch and this was for him, not for anyone else.

**

The first moan woke him up. 

Cas always kept a gun near the bed, just in case, and Dean picked it up and padded carefully out into the hall. He was butt naked, but if they were in trouble he didn’t have time to worry about getting dressed.

There was another sound, a sharp gasp, and Dean lowered the gun as he inched closer to the living room. He knew what he was going to find, and he was pissed already, so not having the gun raised was probably a good idea.

There were maybe four – no, five – people on the floor in the living room. Someone had lit a fire, and the glow shone warmly on naked skin as they writhed together.

Dean looked away angrily. How long had it been since he’d passed out next to Cas? An hour? Two?

Bastard couldn’t even just lie next to him until he woke up.

He went back to the bedroom and put the gun down then pulled on his jeans. The orgy was still going strong when he returned until he grabbed a leg and yanked.

Someone slid out of the pile with a cursed protest. It was that new guy, the one Dean didn’t like or trust, but had caved to Chuck on. Simon?

“What the hell,” he griped. He looked blearily up at Dean, and in that minute Dean knew he was tossing the guy out. The sex was one thing, though he was just in the door and fucking Cas already, but he didn’t want anybody else getting high when he didn’t know if they could handle it.

“Get out,” Dean snarled.

Simon hauled himself to his feet. He swayed a little, blown pupils focusing on Dean. “Says who?”

Dean grabbed a handful of his hair and launched him into the hall. He hit the wall hard, went down onto his knees. Dean wrenched him back to his feet, twisted one arm up behind his back, and shoved him at the door.

“I said out!”

“Come on, man, I’m naked, what the fuck!”

Dean yanked the door open and gave Simon a final shove that sent him tumbling down the steps. He went back into the living room and saw the rest were still at it.

Furious, he started prying them apart: girls, guys, he didn’t care, until he uncovered Cas right at the centre.

“Dammit, Cas,” he snapped.

Cas just stared up at him. He didn’t even look ashamed. Instead he closed his eyes, and arched upwards, riding out whatever was left over from having everyone’s hands on him.

The others were all staring at him now. Dean jerked his head towards the door, and grabbed up whatever clothes were lying around.

He went back and tossed them at Simon, who was just getting to his knees.

“Get out of the camp,” Dean said. “I find you here later I’ll shoot you.”

“You’re kidding me. Over this, over that skank? He invited me, man, he was the one begging for it! How is this my fault?”

He was real glad then he’d put the gun down. He went down the steps and Simon fell backwards in his rush to put space between them.

“Just. Go.” 

The others were rushing out of the cabin then, naked, semi-naked, he didn’t care. Let them sort out whose clothes he’d tossed where. 

Dean went back inside, shutting the door behind him, and returned to the living room.

Cas was slowly sitting up. He looked so out of it that Dean wondered if this one time he’d overdone the dosage.

“Why the fuck do you do that?” he snapped. It was stupid, even asking, and he’d told himself he wouldn’t. He didn’t think he’d understand Castiel’s reasoning, wasn’t sure Cas could even give a reason like this.

Mostly, he didn’t think he could handle whatever explanation Cas gave.

“Do what?” Cas murmured. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, fingers digging into muscles. “I’m thirsty.”

Dean looked around. There was a bottle of water on the table. He passed it down to Cas, and watched him struggle with the lid – his movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. 

“Give it here,” he demanded. He crouched down next to Cas and took the bottle. Dean screwed off the lid and shoved it back at him. “Drink it. All of it.”

Cas stared at him. He put the bottle to his lips, but his eyes never left Dean’s. Then, while Dean watched, he held the bottle out to the side and tipped it, spilling the water over the floor.

Dean struck out before he even knew he was going to. He slapped Castiel hard, snapping his head to the side, and when Cas looked back at him there was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“I should make you lick that up,” Dean said. “Bet you’d like that. You probably love it when they’re all over you, rutting against you, fucking you, making you take it, making you do whatever they want. Why the hell should I be any different?”

“You’re not,” Cas said. He laughed, low, hard. “There was a time I thought you were, but you showed me, Dean. All the knowledge of Heaven at my fingertips but you taught me the greatest lesson.”

Dean swung at him again, but Cas was ready this time. He caught Dean’s hand, and pulled, overbalancing him.

Dean cursed as he toppled to the floor and then Cas was on him, using his weight to hold him down as he slammed his mouth against Dean’s.

He could taste the blood he’d drawn from Cas, metallic and tingling on his tongue. He growled and flipped them, so Cas was underneath him. There was a time he could never have done that, but that was before Cas had fallen and joined the rest of the weak, endangered human race.

Now Cas couldn’t stop him. Oh, he could fight and he had previously. Not because he didn’t want it – Dean knew Cas better than he knew himself – but because some part of him was still that rebellious little bastard that had told Zachariah and the rest to go fuck themselves and then stepped to the Winchester side of the line.

Cas didn’t know how not to fight. Even when the smart thing to do would be to just roll over and go with it, he couldn’t back down. Always a snarky comeback or comment, always one more punch in him, always one more idea they could try to survive another day.

Always ready to let somebody else come in here and fuck him through the floor.

“Maybe I’ve got another lesson for you,” Dean said. Cas snarled and tried to buck him off, but he was still a little out of it and when Dean was like this, he had no chance. “This, all of this, all of you. It’s mine, Cas. It was always mine. My angel even if you’re so far fallen I think you’re beneath even me now. And you know it, don’t you?”

“Get off of me,” Cas said, and that was new. When he tried to resist like this it had always been with his body, making Dean expend himself, all the while the heat in his eyes telling Dean that struggle as he might, he wouldn’t mind Dean ultimately winning.

It was another drug to Cas. Another layer between him and everything. And probably he saw it as another kind of punishment, atoning for the shit he’d done and let happen.

For failing to stop the world from burning.

For failing to save Sam.

Dean took his mouth then, felt Cas yell a protest against him. Cas’s teeth snagged his lip, and he bit down hard, and Dean responded by grabbing Cas’s right wrist and twisting. Not sharp or hard enough to break, but it made Cas’s breathing hitch and he let go with a gasp.

“You bite me again,” Dean warned. 

Cas managed to turn his face away. “You’ll do what? Oh, I forgot, I belong to you, don’t I? So you get to say. You get to choose. If I’m so far beneath you, Dean, why do you even want me?”

Dean stilled. He caught Castiel’s chin, forced his head back around until those wide eyes were fixed on him. 

“Who says I do,” he said, quietly. 

“Then you just want to hurt me, is that it?” Castiel glared up at him. “This is how you cope, Dean. I think this is how you’ve always coped. Maybe I’m not so far beneath you after all.”

Dean didn’t say anything else. Cas was still loose and slick, and he shoved his jeans down enough to free himself before he sank in hard and fast.

Cas hissed, arched up and tried to push him off. Dean caught his wrists and held them down, let his head sink until it was resting on Castiel’s shoulder as he found his rhythm.

Cas stayed quiet, though his protests were in every inch of taut muscle, stubborn refusal to move with Dean, to willingly give him any more than he was taking.

That was ok; Dean didn’t need him on board for this. He kept going, shoving in as hard as he could, and knew it hurt when Cas started to shake under him.

Cas would never beg him, never had. He’d hold his tongue and when Dean was gone, he figured Cas would either take care of himself or go to Chuck.

He wondered if there were times he’d been so rough that Cas hadn’t been able to do either, and had just laid there until he was strong enough to move again.

If there were times like that, today was going to be another.

When he was done, he pulled out and fastened up his jeans. He sat back on his feet, hands on this thighs, watching as Cas started to sit up.

He met the angel’s glare, so full of spite and hate and hurt. 

He took it, maybe even relished it a little.

“You don’t owe me any less than this,” Dean said. “Just remember that.”

He grabbed the rest of his clothes from Castiel’s room. When he left, Cas was still sitting on the floor, eyes tracking him as he headed for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> For the SPN Kink Meme prompt:   
> _Dean feels half dead when he drags himself into Cas' cabin after a difficult run. Cas mends his wounds and maybe after some gentle sex (or not) Dean passes out next to Cas. When he wakes up there are bodies everywhere and Cas is in the middle of it touching anyone he can, asking to be touched, moaning and crying out in pleasure._
> 
> _Dean is pissed, he pushes off the ones that woke him up. But, when he looms over Cas it just eggs the drugged up man on to put on a show._
> 
> _End it however you want, full blown angst, bittersweet or reconciliation._


End file.
